


Awakening

by elynne



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elynne/pseuds/elynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The autobiography of Ruvari Dretel, Dunmer and Dovahkiin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I wouldn't kneel. Not after all I'd been through. They had to push me down to the block.

I looked up at the headsman and the silhouette of the tower looming above me, wanting to memorize every detail of the last thing I would ever see in this life--and then, something fluttering behind... a bird? No.

When the dragon landed heavily on the tower, making everyone stagger and causing the headsman to drop his axe--to the side, fortunately--I felt... strange things. Not hope... perhaps the utter resignation that comes with the last of hope being extinguished. I had been calm already. Looking into the giant, black-scaled face that stared down at me with ancient malevolence, I felt a moment of stillness, of perfect peace. I would die; not by any dirty human's hand, but by the will of an ancient legend come to life. No-one would remember my name, whether they survived or not; I would be only a footnote, if that--a strange Dunmer who wandered into the wrong place, at the wrong time--but if even one person survived to gasp out the tale to another, this time, this event, would become a legend. I knew it was true, even then, when I first stared into the eyes of Alduin.

But that was before he spoke to me. His words blasted through those standing, a deafening clap of thunder and bone-shaking force. I could almost see, wrapped inside those words, something else--some strange shimmering of the air that wound its way down and pierced me, where I knelt on the block. I believe now that Alduin had been drawn by the dormant serpent in my soul... but that understanding would not come until much later. At the time, there was only that crystalline moment of clarity, his words filling my mind and chest, making my spirit vibrate in a way I had never known. I despair of describing it further. The most passionate love, the most potent drugs, even the thrill of a near-death experience--nothing could come close to that awakening. Often, when I think back to that moment I close my eyes, savoring the memory, my heart beating a little faster, breath coming a little quicker, with a faint smile I can't keep from my lips. 

The moment ended, as all moments inevitably must. Immediately the shouting and confusion swept me up and away, setting my feet on the path that would bring me eventually to my current situation. I do not intend to document every step of that journey--my journals can attest to most of the trip having been tedious at best--but instead, put quill to parchment in hopes of passing on... what? Ah, perhaps I have more to learn from my own history as well.

My story will touch on many subjects, and my perspective on what was and was not important may seem strange to one who has heard only the heroic songs. But in those days, I had no inkling that I would become a subject for bards. I lived as we all do; from one moment to the next, making decisions based on imperfect reasoning, incomplete information, and chance. If I had a destiny already written for me from the moment of my birth--or from that moment under the headsman's axe--I did not know it then. What I do know to be true is that, after having spent many hours in contemplation of the journey that led me from that time to this, were I granted foreknowledge of the outcomes of my actions and choices... I would not have changed a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be advised: This fic deviates from canon in some fundamental ways, which will lead the story in an increasingly divergent direction from the events as they take place in the game. I am placing this warning early in my fic series so that, if this kind of thing bothers you, you can make an informed decision about whether to continue reading.
> 
> Although this story is not primarily sexual, there will likely be some sexually explicit chapters. Content/trigger warnings will be posted in the author's notes at the beginning of any chapter in which they occur. If there is anything specific that you would like or need a trigger/content warning for, please let me know in comments at any time.


	2. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a Dunmer arrives in Riften, and is eventually accepted into the notorious Thieves' Guild.

I had been summoned by some hermits called "the Greybeards" to their mountain monastery. Though the Jarl of Whiterun urged me to hurry, I did not have enough coin to pay for a wagon ride, and the legendary Dragonborn could hardly beg for a loan even if my pride would have allowed me to ask. So I set off on foot. The trip took several days, with frequent interruptions to deal with wolves, bears, bandits, and giant spiders, and at some point I became thoroughly lost, unable even to find the road. Eventually I emerged from the underbrush and spied a sizable town sitting on a lakeshore. It seemed a sensible place to sell the various items I'd accumulated in my trip, renew my own supplies, and possibly get directions to wherever it was I had been called to. 

From the half-hearted shakedown at the gates to the threats and warnings growled from dark alleys, I immediately felt perfectly at home in Riften. I had arrived just before sundown, and as shadows swallowed the streets, I fell in easily with the rhythm of the local traffic. The coin purses of merchants and customers seemed to tempt me on every side. I was badly out of practice, though, and I needed to get a feel for the town first. If I was caught, would they simply toss me in a jail cell, or would they chop off a thumb? I knew of many places where guards ignored the law in favor of their own preferences, especially when it came to dealing with dark elves. 

I was somewhat surprised at the number of Dunmer I saw who weren't skulking in shadows or begging. Indeed, most of them were reasonably well-dressed, solvent if not prosperous workers and merchants. Although Nord sentiments against elves of all kinds was a well- documented historical fact, I hadn't seen much sign of it so far. The only Dunmer I met in Whiterun had been the Jarl's trusted housecarl, Irileth. It almost felt unnatural, seeing so many of my people mingling freely with others, treated as respected equals, rather than scum to be pushed into the gutters. 

Unfortunately, I had arrived late enough in the day that the general store--as well as any merchants who might want to buy any items I was carrying--had closed up for the night. I had barely enough coin to pay for a meal and a room--a fact which didn't escape the notice of a well-dressed Nord, who introduced himself as Brynjolf and offered me a job, of sorts. I accepted his proposal gladly, and slept peacefully.

The next few days passed quickly. Brynjolf kept me busy with various small tasks and tests. I didn't mind in the slightest. I'd lost all sense of urgency to continue my journey to see the Greybeards, and the whole business about mythic dragons and legends come to life seemed very remote. Instead, I was rapidly integrating myself into Riften's underworld, and the headquarters of the Thieves' Guild. I listened, watched, and explored, until I recognized every resident of the city and knew every back alley. 

I was slightly displeased when I was eventually sent to shake down several merchants for money owed to the Guild. I understood why it was necessary, and didn't mind being tested, but I disliked the notoriety I gained at having my own face recognized as a thug for the Guild. Also, while I had no qualms threatening humans, I felt genuine regret at terrorizing the Argonians who ran the Bee and Barb, not least because I was still sleeping there. Fortunately word had reached them ahead of me, and Keerava handed over the owed gold without any protest or argument. Still, Talen-Jei watched me with cold, unfriendly eyes, following me as I went to my room and quickly packed my bag, glaring at me until I left the inn.

So it was that I returned to the Ragged Flagon with several pouches of gold, my belongings on my back, and a somewhat sour mood. My spirits lifted as Brynjolf praised me, before revealing that I had passed the final hurdle to be initiated into the Thieves' Guild. He escorted me through the secret door into the Cistern and showed me a bunk and chest where I could sleep and store my belongings before taking me to be introduced to the actual Guild leader, Mercer Frey.

I'm not sure which surprised me more; the fact that Brynjolf wasn't the guild leader as I had assumed, or the immediate dislike I took to Mercer. He was rude, abrasive, and insulting, all of which I had experienced often enough to let it slide off my back. If one were to take offense at arrogance, there were plenty of other deserving characters in the Ratway. For that matter, the Nord that tended the bar at the Ragged Flagon had been far more dour and dismissive. I cannot claim that it was some instinct that warned me against him; I had no inkling of such an idea. Something about the man just put me off. But my future with the Guild was entirely in his hands, so I did my best to bury my baseless antipathy. It wouldn't be the first time I'd ignored offense in pursuit of opportunity.

"Mercer? This is the one I was talking about," Brynjolf said, gesturing for me to step into the center of the circular vault. "Our newest recruit."

The guild leader looked me over, a visual assessment of my equipment and bearing that was quick and thorough, but when he was done he frowned. "This better not be another waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf." I glanced aside, to see the Nord's cheeks redden slightly, and wondered at the story behind this previous "waste of resources."

Then Mercer turned to me. "Before we continue, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions. You do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly."

"Good. Then I think it's time we put your expertise to the test--and that other piece of skeever-bait that's been loitering around the Flagon."

I tensed, but was ignored as Brynjolf spoke. "Wait a moment--you're not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn't get in."

"You claim these recruits have an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let them prove it."

"I prefer to work alone," I said. 

Mercer looked at me with a scowl. "I'm sorry--I must have misheard that. A minute ago, you were agreeing to follow my orders. Have you changed your mind?" He folded his arms, and beside him, Brynjolf winced. 

One more indignity to put up with. Somehow, I managed to hold back the heavy sigh that was trying to burst out of my lungs. "I apologize. I will be happy to work with whoever you decide should accompany me." 

"Yes, you will." Mercer let the silence hang for a moment. "Brynjolf, go get the other one. I don't want to have to explain this twice." The Nord nodded, giving me an apologetic grimace as he passed on his way back to the Flagon. 

I'm sure that Mercer intended for me to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny while we waited. Instead, I took advantage of the opportunity to study my surroundings. For being the cistern of a sewer, the place was reasonably clean, and even charming in its way, once one got used to the smell. Other people who I presumed to be Guild veterans skulked around the large, open space, though none crossed the slightly arched walkways to the platform where Mercer and I stood, and I doubted any of them could clearly understand what we'd been saying over the sounds of water rushing below our feet. I was more impressed than I would have admitted at their industry--one was sharpening his weapons, another practicing archery, and a third carefully checking and repairing his leather armor. Clearly the hard times the Guild had fallen on were not due to the indolence of its rank and file. 

However, I couldn't fail to note shelves obviously intended to display ill-gained riches that instead displayed dust and cobwebs, or the atmosphere of gloom which had little to do with the dim lighting. I would have laid good money that most of the members were maintaining their gear and skills less from duty to the Guild than because they expected to be plying their trades individually in the not-distant future. 

My observations were interrupted by Brynjolf's return, accompanied by one of the shadowy figures that I'd seen in the Ragged Flagon. The light at the center of the cistern was better, but the newcomer had his hood on, and I was not able to get much more detail than that he had a beard and pale skin. He was also somewhat taller than Brynjolf, which meant he would tower over me. He seemed built more thin than broad, and he at least walked with enough quiet care to give me the impression that he might not be completely useless. I caught a flash of bright green eyes as he looked at me. I raised an eyebrow at him, then pointedly turned back to face Mercer.

"Now that you're both here," he said, somehow managing to convey the impression that we were late and had left him waiting, "I'll fill you in on the job. Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients. However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details."

"Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?" Brynjolf asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Since Brynjolf assures me you two will be benefits to us, then you're in. Welcome to the Thieves' Guild." With that, he simply turned and walked away.

There was definitely a strange undercurrent of tension between the two men. I suspected that Mercer had been planning on telling us more, but Brynjolf's prompting had soured his already foul mood, and instead he'd cut his involvement in the little meeting prematurely short. I didn't mind at all. From what I had seen, Brynjolf was more than competent to run Guild business, and managed to remain courteous and even pleasant in demeanor. 

Now he gave us a cocky half-smirk and folded his arms. "Welcome to the family, you two. I'm expecting you to make us a lot of coin, so don't disappoint me."

"How do we get our cut of the spoils?" asked the tall man standing beside me. I must admit that I jumped a bit when he spoke; I had half-forgotten he was there. Also, his voice was surprisingly deep for his slight form.

Brynjolf shrugged. "Simple. Do as you're told and keep your blade clean. We can't turn a profit by killing." I nodded along with the other new member.

"You should talk with Delvin Mallory and Vex," Brynjolf added, nodding behind us to the tunnel leading back into the Ragged Flagon. "They know their way around the place, and they'll be able to kick some extra jobs your way. Oh, and talk to Tonilia in the flagon. She'll set you up with your new armor."  
"What about this Goldenglow job?" I asked.

"Ah, yes." Brynjolf scratched at his beard. "Goldenglow Estate is a bee farm. They raise the wretched little things for honey. It's owned by some smart-mouthed wood elf named Aringoth. We need you to teach him a lesson by burning down three of the estate's hives and clearing out the safe in the main house."

"What's the catch?" the man beside me asked. 

"The catch is that you can't burn the whole place to the ground," Brynjolf replied. "That important client Mercer mentioned would be furious if you did. The Guild depends on an arrangement of influential people to keep things running smoothly. Without that client at our backs, we'd be in serious trouble."

"Hmm... what about Aringoth? He doesn't seem to be one of your important clients." I tilted my head to glance at the man standing beside me. His accent was mostly Imperial, but there was an undertone of something else that I couldn't identify at all--a rarity for one as well-traveled as myself. Additionally, there was a strange, raspy growl to his voice. It put me in mind of habitual pipe-smokers, and the way it affected their voices over the years. 

"Maven prefers that Aringoth remains alive, but if he tries to stop you from getting the job done, kill him." I looked back over at him, a little surprised at his stony expression. "The Guild has a lot riding on this. Goldenglow Estate brought in a mountain of gold for the Guild. It was probably our best, most steady source of coin. Then out of the clear blue, Aringoth stops sending us our cut. Mercer was--well, angry, to put it kindly. So we send in Vex and find out he's hired a bunch of mercenaries to guard the place, and fortified the entire island. Vex barely made it out of there alive. You should talk to her about it before you go. She can likely give you some hints that may be helpful."

"So Maven is the influential client?" I asked. From what I'd seen and heard around town, it didn't surprise me in the slightest.

Brynjolf nodded. "We had an arrangement with Maven. We kept an eye on Goldenglow Estate to make sure the honey kept flowing. If the workers had a dispute, we'd rough them up. If competitors tried to buy honey from Aringoth, we'd steal the shipments. In return, Maven allowed us to extort Aringoth and bring in a huge payout."

The crude nature of the arrangement surprised me a little, but once again I had to remind myself that this was exactly in line with the kinds of situations short-lived humans tended to create. If I had been in charge... except, obviously, I wasn't.

"How dangerous is it to cross Maven?" the man beside me asked, in what sounded like a joking tone.

"Let me put it to you this way," Brynjolf said, his voice level and dead serious. "Nothing happens in Riften without Maven's consent. One word from her and you could spend the rest of the fourth era in prison."

There was a brief, slightly uncomfortable silence. "Oh--I suppose I should introduce you to each other. Ruvari Dretel," he said, holding out one hand in my direction. "And Odrin," he said, gesturing to the man beside me. "You watch yourselves on that island. Those mercenaries don't take prisoners."

I took that as our cue to leave and turned away, heading back to the Flagon. I saw Odrin's shadow as he followed a few steps behind me, but I had to admit to myself that I couldn't hear him at all. We still hadn't exchanged a word between us. With any luck, I thought, we might be able to complete the job in silence.


End file.
